How Certain Are You?
by Ria Lucas AKA Xayian
Summary: “How certain are you…that what you brought back is 100 percent...Pure…Sam?” That’s what Azazel, the Yellow-eyed demon said to Dean before he died. Now Dean finds out the truth behind those words. AU after A Very SPN Xmas. Rated for lang. & violence.
1. Chapter 1

Your standard disclaimer applies and despite the fact that I was excited by the knowledge that Kripke and I had apparently a similar idea on why Sam was acting the way he was the cause and reasoning are totally different. Believe it or not, I started this last week before Malleus Maleficarum aired this week. :)

**"_How certain are you…that what you brought back is 100 percent...Pure…Sam?" That's what Azazel, the Yellow-eyed demon said to Dean before he died. Now Dean finds out the truth behind those words._**

**Chapter 1**

It's been 6 months since Dean shot and killed the Yellowed-Eyed Demon. Six months since Dean made the deal to bring Sam back from the dead and the youngest Winchester was still nowhere near to finding a way to get his brother out of it. He'd worked relentlessly with Bobby trying to find a way out of Dean's deal. They'd picked through every relevant text at their disposal and had found nothing.

Ruby had dangled the promise of helping Sam find a way to saving Dean but, aside from the few times she stepped in to aid the brothers when they've needed it, she was utterly useless in Sam's eyes. He was starting to think that he should have killed her as soon as he found out she was a demon but, at the time, he just couldn't take the chance of losing an opportunity to save his brother. He still couldn't take that chance.

So far, Dean had been holding himself together pretty well considering, but he could see the strain it had on him grow with each passing day. At first he was over the top. Everything had been a joke to Dean as he overcompensated in an effort to convince Sam he was fine and fool himself into believing that he wasn't scared shitless at the prospect of going to hell. Oh, he hid it well, but Sam knew his brother. Had at times confronted him with that fact when Sam's own strain at watching Dean take risks built up to the point that he could do nothing but.

Sam knew how hard it was for his older brother to express himself in a way that didn't involve some punch line or one-liner and confronting him often led to fights, but he couldn't help it. There was no way he was going to let Dean destroy himself before he found a way to get him out of the deal.

There were times when, for just a fraction of a second, Sam thought that maybe he should let his brother go out in a blaze of glory. Dean told him the contract was for a year. It was naive to even contemplate it, but if he died before then, would that necessarily mean he would go to hell? Sam knew it didn't make a difference, but his own fear at not finding a way to save Dean's life…just maybe he could at least save his soul.

In the meantime Sam used all his ammo in his emotional arsenal to try and utilize some control over Dean. He knew he was being manipulative and even felt the tiniest bit guilty for pushing Dean to do what he wanted at times. But contrary to that fleeting thought of an early death, he had no desire to see his older brother die before his time was truly up. After a while, Dean had begun to feel the same.

It was Christmas when Sam realized that not wanting to celebrate because it would most likely be Dean's last Christmas was more selfish than he cared to admit. He didn't want to accept it as the last, but it was so clear that Dean had needed it that to not celebrate became unthinkable. How could he possibly deny his brother any bit of happiness when true happiness had always been out of his brother's reach?

So Sam began to keep things to himself; hold in his own emotions as much as he could and the only way to do that was to take that childhood hero worship and try to solidify it. After all, Dean's life had always been about holding himself together for the family and Sam felt it was time for him to lighten his brother's load.

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Dean sat back on a secluded stone bench just inside the park boundaries on a bright and sunny day. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and set the branches above him to sway. He listened to that wind as the occasional bird chirped and the sound of laughter could be heard in the distance. Two chipmunks that he'd dubbed Chip and Dale dashed to the far end of the bench. Dean watched as they gathered up sunflower seeds, pausing long enough to stuff their mouths, twitching and fidgeting as they did, before making a mad dash to the massive tree above and behind him.

Dean kept still in an effort not to frighten them away, tossing more seeds onto the ground after each had ferried their load away. It had taken him twenty minutes to get them as close he did and he was now content to watch their antics unfold. He never thought that watching something so simple could bring him so much calm. Dean supposed that it had something to do with the simplicity of the lives of such small creatures.

Eat, shit, procreate and die. What else was there for a chipmunk? He imagined that a bad day would be running the risk of getting run over by a car or eaten by a hawk or something. Not so hot for the chipmunk but it served a purpose and the chipmunk was born with the instinct that this was the way of things. Never would you see a chipmunk run the risk of having its soul taken straight to hell.

Of course Dean knew that, if you striped down the basics of human life, it would essentially be the same. Yet humans did more than what nature requested. They had this tendency to change things for good or bad. Miracles and sins, good and evil, tit for tat. In everything there is a balance and when you change things that balance gets met no matter the cost.

The first time he'd learned this was the first time he'd almost died. The first time he should have died. The first time he'd felt guilt for being alive. He had to admit that this guilt played a small role in making the deal that he did. If their dad hadn't saved his life, if he'd just let nature take its course on a life that shouldn't have been to begin with…things would have gone differently. There was no doubt in his mind that John Winchester would have gotten that yellow-eyed bastard and Sam would have never of died. The gate to hell would have stayed closed. They would not be at war.

Dean sighed and turned his attention to the park before him as a cool gust ruffles his hair. The feeling is subtle and for anyone else would have gone unnoticed. Even with all his experiences, at this level of awareness, Dean would have normally not have noticed yet himself, but the closer he got to his expiration date the more sensitive to them he got.

"Hello, Ruby," he didn't bother turning his head as the demon came to stand a few feet from the bench.

"And how did you know it was me?" the demon smirked. "For all you knew I could have been just someone passing by."

"First off, there's no stink like a demon's stink," Dean glanced at her then back at the park before him. "Second, Sam told me enough that you're skankiness gave you away."

"Ah, Dean…You have such a way with words. You should consider becoming a poet when you decide to retire," She replied. Ruby affected a look of sudden insight, "Oh…but wait. You'll be dead and roasting in hell. Won't be much time for poetry inbetween screams of agony."

"Whatever, bitch." Dean schooled his features and clenched his jaw. He had no desire to think about his impending damnation. "Why are you here, Ruby? I thought Sam was your Winchester of choice."

"He is, but as his brother, I felt I owed you the courtesy of a private chat."

"The courtesy of a chat?" Dean sneered in disbelief as he turned his head to the blonde-haired demon. "You tell Sam everything where we're involved. At least whatever will get you into his good graces in your vain attempt to weasel your way into his life. So why decide on a private chat with me? Don't tell me…you just couldn't control yourself any longer and you couldn't resist my animal magnetism. Sorry, bitch, but the distinct smell of sulfur does nothin' for me."

"Cut the crap, Dean," Ruby rolls her eyes as she climbs up and takes a seat on the wide arm of the stone bench. "What I have to say, Sam isn't ready to hear."

"What could you have to share that I, or Sam for that matter, could possibly have any desire to hear?"

"I found some information on your deal that you need to know…about the demon that really holds your contract. Care to hear it or is Chip and Dale more interesting than your brother's future?"

Dean spared a quick glance at the spot where the little critters would have been, but the animals were smart and must have skedaddled when the evil bitch of the west came near. He hated it when demons did the whole mind-reading bit.

"Spit it out, Ruby."

"Fine. Sam needs to focus on himself and his own will to live and fight and you need to make sure he stops looking for a way out of your deal before he finds out something that he won't want to know. Make sure he knows that no matter what he does, even if he eventually figures out how to break the contract and kill the demon that holds it, you're as good as dead."

"I know the specifics of the deal, Ruby…"

"No you don't, Dean," she interrupts. "You think you know but you don't."

"The point, Ruby. Get to the fucking point."

"The point, _Dean_, is that even demons have to ultimately follow the rules concerning life and death. Azazel was able to usurp the reaper's hold on you when he brought you back from the brink of death. And even though he interfered with the reaper's claim on you someone ultimately died restoring the reaper ideal of balance."

"And there will still be balance when I'm gone, Yoda…"

"Shut and listen, you idiot." Ruby placed her left leg on the ground as she leaned forward on her perch. "You were still technically alive when that deal was made. Azazel had no claim on your soul. Sam was dead for how long? A couple of hours? Three? His body was cold, Dean. Ready to rot. Do you honestly believe that the Crossroads demon could simply jump start Sammy without a source in which to draw the life from? There are no cold starts when it comes to revivals."

Dean stared at Ruby. Trying to hide the fear and confusion, he held her gaze as he pondered her words. He'd always known that his death was a foregone conclusion as much as he'd wish otherwise, but what Ruby was saying said there was more to it than a 'simple' soul trade off.

"Definitely more than a simple soul trade off, Dean. More like a sharing of one soul's life force to sustain two people. You've been wondering why Sam hasn't been himself so much so that it never occurred to you to notice he was acting like you. They took a bit of you and stuck it in Sam to get that heart of his pumping."

Dean looked down and pushed his hands through his hair and, clasping them behind his head, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "If that's the big secret," he said, placing his hands on his thighs and returning his focus to Ruby, "then why keep it from Sam. He'll need to come to terms with me dieing and as far as I'm concerned, the sooner the better."

Ruby had watched as Dean absorbed that bit of information. She hadn't been surprised when she noticed Dean's body begin to relax. She'd always known that Azazel planted the seed of fear into Dean to torment him as their kind was want to do. She felt kind of sorry for the guy as she prepared to burst his bubble.

"Don't be relieved, Dean, because a powerful demon holds your soul in his hands. Your _whole_ soul with the power to do with it as he pleases and we both know that part of your soul now resides within Sam."

"What are you saying?" This time Dean didn't try to hide the trace of fear that crept into his voice.

"If Sam doesn't prepare himself…he won't be able to fight the demon when it begins the process of turning him into the leader of the demon army that Azazel had been trying to groom him for."

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**AN:** Whew…that sure as hell took me awhile to throw together. Let me know if y'all think I should keep going or drop kick this sucker into the trash bin. Thanks in advance, y'all!


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay everyone. I would have had this up sooner but Sam's part was a real bitch to write. Wasn't quite sure how I wanted to approach it and went through about five rewrites before I settled. Let me know if it works for ya. **

**The usual disclaimers apply…**

Chapter 2

Bird song drifted on the breeze as the sun traveled low in the sky and the low hum of cicadas could be heard if one took the time to listen. The wind blew a path along the ground and up through the branches like a snake in search of prey, caressing the grass and leaves that lay along its path. While shadows crept along the earth in a slow race to flee the daystar, small animals made their way back to dens in preparation for the coming night.

Higher up in the sky the clouds moved in like a thundering heard of elephants in a dogged march toward the south; dark, gray and ready to burst. A small rabbit hopped across the pavement, stopping once to scent the air then continuing its journey. Sniffing at the base of a mailbox, the small creature took a nibble from a long blade of grass stilling at the sound of an approaching rumble. The sound grew louder and the rabbit made a mad dash into its hidey-hole as the dark beast sped by.

Dean slowed down as he approached the current Winchester 'residence' at the end of Heather Drive. The large house sat back away from the road surrounded on all sides by overgrown bushes. An old worn and battered 'For Sale' sign marked the end of the driveway, hanging haphazardly by a single remaining link, striking the thin bars that supported it as it was buffeted by the wind.

It had been Sam's idea to squat here for a while and, despite their last experience in Oasis Plains, it really wasn't a bad place to relax for a while. As long as they were gone by the next full moon, that is. Neither one had a desire to be present when nature's insects came in full force to protest their presence. Until then, Dean had planned on taking every opportunity to enjoy the amenities the house held. It'd only taken him an hour to reroute some power from a junction box back to the house and, as long as they kept power usage to a minimum, the power company would be none the wiser. It had been an added bonus that the house closest to their source of power had also been a partially furnished display home. If Larry Parks had been present, Dean would have considered letting him look under the hood of his car for such a fortuitous oversight.

However, the rare homey pleasures that he and his brother got to experience outside the usual crappy motel rooms were far from his mind. Pulling into the drive, Dean shut off the engine and closed his eyes. He leaned forward to rest his head on the steering wheel, turbulent thoughts spinning through his head. He hadn't decided on what to tell Sam about his visit from Ruby or whether or not to tell him anything at all. What weighed on his mind, preventing the decision, was how the hell he had set his brother back on a path he'd thought he'd saved him from.

Dean rubbed his chest then brought his hand up to rub at the tension in his neck. It had been hard watching Sam struggle with the constant fear he'd go dark-side and rain destruction and death over the entire human race; afraid to live and second guessing his kind-hearted nature. He had always teased him about that, but in truth, Sam was the means in which Dean maintained his own humanity. But now…weighed down with the knowledge that he had 'tainted' his brother with his own dark soul and practically delivered him into the hands of the next demon messiah…it was just too much.

With a grunt, Dean felt the familiar tightness start low in his gut then slowly make its way upward. The steady pressure around his heart that seemed to have become his constant companion of late increased. It felt like someone was driving a stake into his chest without the use of a hammer; just a steady push that didn't seem to end, making his chest feel tight and his lungs feel small as that stake pushed forward leaving no room for his body to function.

He'd thought he'd saved Sam by making that deal, but all he seemed to have done was damn himself as well as his little brother.

Dean's breath started to come in long shuddering gasps as he stared up toward the house that held his little brother. The pressure in his chest no longer felt like a stake but more like someone had reached in, grabbed his heart and started to squeeze. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Sammy's struggle for his soul wasn't over. It had truly just begun and he was afraid that his baby brother may lose this one because he wouldn't be there to look out for him.

His one true and constant job his whole life had been to look after Sammy. On the hunt, off the hunt, before there was even a need _for_ a hunt when their mother was still alive; since Sammy'd been in diapers, Dean's job had been to be a good big brother and look out for his younger sibling.

How could he have possibly fucked that up so royally that there was more than likely no chance of truly fixing his screw-up?

The pressure in his chest, on his heart and lungs, grew exponentially and Dean's gasps grew shorter and shallower with a sound closer to wheezing than anything else. Feeling hot and claustrophobic, Dean shoved the door open and swung his legs out, trying to take in as much of the fresh air as he could. Deep creases formed around his eyes as he stared at nothing and worked on pulling air in through his nose and blowing it out through his mouth. The only thing he could think about was that he had no idea how he was going to prepare his little brother for a confrontation he would have no choice but to deal with. This was not a task he could just leave to Ruby. No matter her "good" intentions, she was first and foremost a demon.

Dean's unease increased and his difficulty in performing such a basic task as breathing became even more so. He tried sitting up straight and pulling his shoulders back but the muscles in his chest and abdomen had contracted so tightly that he found it close to impossible to relieve the strain.

Dean gripped the door and attempted to stand; falling back into his seat and bracing a clenched fist on his knee as his other hand tighten on the door. He didn't maintain his grip long and fell forward onto his arms, scraping his forehead against the pavement before falling onto his side.

If only his dad hadn't made the deal. If only he'd told his son about the yellow-eyed demon's plan to begin with. If only his dad had realized that Sammy's life far out-weighed his older son's. If only, if only, if only…If only John Winchester had chosen to let him go, then Dean wouldn't have been around to truly and completely screw things up.

--

Sam looked up as the familiar sound of a deep rumbling engine approached. He tossed the articles he'd been reading down onto the coffee table and moved toward the window to peek through the blinds. Sticking his finger under one of the slats, he lifted it to get a better look outside. He watched as the old Chevy roared down the street towards the house, slowing when needed and pulling into the driveway of their current squatter's paradise. With a sad smile Sam shook his head. He let the thin plastic slat drop, a small cloud of dust rising from the blind as it settled back into place, and walked into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers before returning to his seat.

It always amazed him how Dean drove his car, because it wasn't _just_ his car but an extension of who he was, a reflection of his soul. On the surface it's sleek, smooth and driven with the reckless abandon of someone high on life. Driven by someone who didn't care about anything but the next adrenaline rush. However, if one were to look closer, they would notice the single minded precision and control in with which it was handled. And although Dean had his moments where there was nothing better than his car and the open road, underneath he was all about control. Even when he did act reckless it was always with the purpose of getting the job done. Now though, that same control was dissipating with every passing day.

He knew where Dean had gone, where he always seemed to go when they had some down time. Dean had gone to seek that little bit of normality that Sam wished that he could give his older brother. That bit of normality that was stolen years ago from a four year-old little boy who had, Sam discovered, been craving it ever since.

Sam regretted the times he'd assumed that Dean didn't understand his desire for a normal life. Yet as time went on, he found he understood his big brother more and more. Understood Dean's near obsessive desire to look out for his baby brother and now Sam wanted to do the same for him. He just didn't know where else to look for the answers he would need to save his brother's soul and give him a chance at a real life.

Sighing, the youngest Winchester twisted off the cap to the long-necked bottle of beer and tossed it onto the table. Picking up an article, he took a drink and read. Dean hadn't said anything but Sam could tell he was getting restless. Though they needed the down time, too much of it meant too much time to think on the future. Now Sam may have found something to take their minds off that future.

Jotting some notes onto a legal pad, Sam reread what he had so far. He happened to glance at the second bottle of beer he'd gotten out for Dean then glanced at the door. Sam tapped his pencil on the pad a few times debating on whether to go check on his brother. Dean hated it when Sam even looked like he was going to hover but understood his little brother's need. So Sam tried not to hover too much and Dean tried not to bitch about it.

"Screw it." Dropping the pencil onto the table, Sam got up, went to the door and pulled it open. Stepping out onto the porch he started down the front steps, "Hey, Dean! Man, what's taking you so long? I think I found something…"

When Sam reached the bottom he wasn't prepared for what he saw. Dean was on the ground gripping the handle on the door and was trying but failing to get up.

"Dean!" Sam ran to his brother's side and saw the stricken look on his face as he tried to get his body under control. "Jesus, Dean…Dean! Dean, look at me!"

Dean's breathing was incredibly shallow and he had a pale parlor on his face verging on blue that terrified Sam as memories of the past came back to visit him.

"Dean…!?" Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder supporting him and placed his other behind Dean's neck to get Dean to focus his attention on him. He could feel his brother's heart racing from where his fingers touched. "Dean, it'll be okay, man. I'm right here. What happened?"

"Sammy…" Dean gasped his brother's name. "Shit…I feel like…like my heart's…locked…in a friggin'…vice…"

Sam started checking his brother for any signs of injury. He was looking for any cause from either the natural or supernatural world. Other than his obvious display of pain and a bloodless scrape on his forehead he found nothing. Sam got up and quickly opened the back door to the Impala. He returned to Dean's side and, wrapping his arm around Dean's waist and grabbing his wrist, he pulled his arm around his neck and stood him up.

"What…are ya doin', Sammy?" Dean asked, a grimace on his face as Sam lowered him into the back seat and attempted to swing Dean's legs into the car.

"I'm getting you to the hospital," he replied.

"No hospital…"

"Dean…"

"No, Sam." Dean breathed heavily as he tried to push Sam to the side and get out of the car. Sam stepped back a little in surprise and then tried to reassert himself by grabbing a hold of Dean's shoulders and trying to keep him in the car. Dean wasn't having it however, and shoved his brother back causing Sam to stumble a few steps. He managed to stand and gripped the door pausing momentarily as dark spots danced across his eyes. As soon as his vision cleared Dean pushed off away from the car and started heading towards the house at a stagger.

"Dean!" Sam regained his composure and followed Dean. He wasn't surprised at his brother's stubbornness but he was a bit by the strength he was displaying considering the apparent pain he was in. "Come on, man, you need a doctor."

"What I need…is a stiff drink." Dean took some pride in the fact that he wasn't as breathless as he was a moment before. He felt his chest begin to loosen as Sam followed him, coming close when Dean climbed the few steps to the porch as if he were afraid he'd need to catch Dean should he fall. "Quit hovering over me, Sam."

Sam watched as Dean appeared to be recovering. He watched as Dean forcibly tried to relax the creases around his eyes and on his forehead and took deeper, yet shaky, breathes. He was still rubbing his chest and seemed to be walking with a surer step once he reached the door. Sam wasn't convinced the he was alright and knew Dean was about to ignore the fact that he himself had sounded strained when he spoke of his heart.

"What's going on, dude?" he asked. Sam remained standing as Dean plopped down in an easy chair by the coffee table and grabbed the unopened beer. It wasn't whiskey but it'll do. He popped the top with his ring, took a swig and laid his head back closing his eyes. Sam waited a moment and when it looked like Dean wasn't going to answer he finally let his ire take hold of him. "Dude! What the hell?"

"Just a bad case of indigestion, Sammy," Dean replied with eyes still closed.

"Indigestion…?" Sam stared at his brother incredulously. He couldn't believe Dean was going to actually blow off what so clearly happened to him just moments ago especially considering his history of medical woes. Completely healed or not, Dean was always a little paranoid when it came to his heart and until now hadn't had an issue with expressing it.

The episode by the car played out in Sam's mind in vivid detail a couple more times and then it hit him. Sam was able to recognize what had happened to Dean. The racing heart, tightness in his chest, and shortness of breath…he'd seen it all before. Every once in a while they'd be on a job and end up with an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. That bystander would exhibit all the same symptoms that Dean just had.

"You had a panic attack," Sam muttered and shook his head. He watched the muscles in Dean's face tighten then relax as the older Winchester attempted to feigned calm and continued to stay silent. "What happened today, Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes, his breathing having finally returned to normal. He took another drink from his beer and placed it on the coffee table before picking up some of the papers Sam had spread out across the table.

"So…find anything interesting?"

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam brushed past Dean, startling him and knocking the papers out of his hands as he walked to the other side of the table and picked up his own beer. He gripped the bottle's neck tightly and brought it towards his lips then changing his mind and bringing it down to his side as he began to pace.

Dean glanced up from the papers on the floor, watching his brother's movements. He was used to seeing his brother angry now but was disturbed by it for another reason. The tension he saw radiating from his body verged on a violence Dean was all too familiar with and he wondered how he had missed the similarities before. Even the way Sam now held himself in his anger was like looking into a mirror. It had been incredibly rare for Sam to get so angry so quickly before he died. It seemed to Dean that in this respect the only difference between he and his little brother was that Dean had had years of practice containing it.

Dean was startled from his thoughts at the loud crash of glass striking the wall to his right. He glanced over and saw dark golden liquid slide down the cream colored wall from the point of impact near the front window. He watched as sunlight bounce off a myriad of brown glass shards scattered across the carpet. Dean then glanced up and saw his brother staring at him with a closed off expression that belied the anger expressed by the shattered bottle.

They stared at each other for several minutes, each waiting for the other to say something. And when neither did, Sam huffed and walked over to grab his laptop and notebook, stilling a moment to stare down at his brother. "Fine. Don't tell me what happen today," Sam spat out but continued speaking, determination clear in his voice, "but I _will_ figure it out, Dean." He then turned and headed towards the dining area. He didn't want to be around Dean at the moment, but as pissed as he was, he wouldn't let him out of his sight either.

Dean grabbed his beer off the table and sat back with a sigh; he took a sip from the cool fluid then set the bottle on the armrest. He knew his brother wasn't going to let this rest and knowing what he did now, understood that his own bullheadedness added to Sam's own stubbornness would wear him down until he fessed up. Thanks to his 'little episode' he no longer had the luxury of hiding what he knew or even a chance at lying about it. Sam now knew to look for any deceit on his part. His only option now was not whether he would tell Sam but when and how much to say. The last thing Dean wanted to do right now was tell Sam that not only had he condemned himself to hell but his little brother too.

**AN: Big Thanks to my pal Joyce for the beta… **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Sorry for the delay y'all, but this one was a real bitch to hammer out and 15 or so rewrites later, I'm still not sure about it. However, the conversation that follows is absolutely necessary for anything else down the line to make any kind of sense. That being said, I hope this chapter engages you to stay on for more. ;P Super thanks go to my gal pal, Joyce for her grammar catchin' ways and Thanks for catchin' that tense boo boo, AyJay!!

**Chapter 3**

Dean was still sitting in the chair with feet propped on the coffee table a half hour later, listening to the wind as it picked up and rushed around the house with an angry wail and the sky darkened with the coming storm. He listened to the click click of keys as his brother typed away on his laptop surfing the net. A small pang in his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten all day and that he'd forgotten their food in the car. He didn't really feel like eating but knew that if he didn't Sam wouldn't either. And considering he'd been studiously ignoring Dean for the past half hour, he wouldn't put it past Sam to go so far as to forget to eat himself. So he got out of the chair in one swift motion then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, the chair scrapping against the floor as he stood.

"I forgot the food in the car," Dean replied not bothering to glance back. He heard Sam's foot steps approach and knew that Sam would probably watch him as he made his way to the car and back. _At least he's not ignoring me_, he thought. Dean paused at the door and turned his head to the side, not quite looking back as he addressed his brother. "Why? You want to hold my hand?"

"_Dean_..."

"_Sam_…," Dean replied, imitating his brother's tone of annoyance perfectly. Then, affecting his best big brother voice, "Do we really need have a discussion about your girly moments of worry?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow at the older Winchester but didn't say anything further. He did stop where he was though and watched as Dean dipped his chin with an exaggerated sigh before turning to open the door. A strong wind yanked it from his hand and the door struck the wall as the quick moving gust of air whistled by and invaded the house, blowing the papers off the coffee table. Dean spared the door a single glance and decided to leave it be 'til he returned. He felt a chill run up and down his spine as he crossed the threshold and a cold gust of wind pushed its way through the opening of his jacket. Shaking off the chill, Dean took the final step out and headed for the car.

It was Sam's turn to sigh. He ignored the scatter of papers fluttering off the coffee table onto the floor and watched his big brother walk out the door. Shaking his head, Sam returned to his seat and started the process of closing the browser windows and shutting his laptop down.

"Let it never be said," Sam smiled, "that he was never a consistent pain in my ass."

He closed the laptop then picked up his notepad. Losing all feeling for the small bit of levity that Dean tried to instill in him, he reread the notes he'd been taking. There wasn't much but then he hadn't really expected there to be. He'd really hoped that Dean had been rattled by some local occurrence but he knew his brother was made of sterner stuff than that.

Something happened today that freaked Dean out enough that he'd had a panic attack and Sam knew Dean's current state of mind well enough to know of only one thing that could do that. The future. More specifically…Sam's own.

Sam leaned on his elbows and rubbed his face. He then pushed his hands through his hair, the silky brown strands gliding through his fingers before dropping his forearms onto the table. Frustration didn't even begin to describe what he felt.

Another gust of chilled wind burst through the door rattling the heavy object on its hinges. Sam glanced down and noticed the salt line had broken and got up to fix it. He was about to bend down and shift the salt back into place when he was momentarily startled by a shadow appearing in front of him.

Dean couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face as Sam quickly recovered and glowered at him. "Thinking too hard, geek boy, will get you into trouble."

Sam was still irritated with Dean so he tried not to return the grin. "Stop being an ass and fix the salt line, ya jerk." Taking the bag of food from his brother he walked away, the customary "Bitch" response following him as he headed toward the table.

Still grinning, Dean bent down and reached for the displaced rock salt. His grin quickly disappearing as another gust of wind blows through the entrance way, nearly knocking him down in the process.

"Watch yourself, princess."

Dean hid his own chuckle and let the remark slide, simply happy for the momentary reprieve that his brother was allowing him. He knew their conversation wasn't over by a long shot but both understood that, nowadays, they couldn't afford to waste a lot of time on anger the way they used to.

Smile sliding from his lips, Dean takes a moment to glance up into the darkening sky; he looks on as the storm clouds roil forward like an approaching army ready for battle.

"Looks like we're in for a big one tonight," he mutters as he finally pushes the salt back into place, never noticing the shadow speeding overhead just before the barrier is sealed.

Dean sat at the head of the table, Sam at his right. They'd just sat down to eat and Sam was halfway through his first bite when Dean decided to talk.

"Ruby paid me a visit in the park today."

Sam halted his movements in surprise. _'Ruby had visited Dean?'_ he thought '_Not good. Not good at all.' _Sam moved the sandwich away from his mouth and set it on the wrapper before him. The bite he'd taken left incomplete and barely hanging on. He was almost afraid to say anything that could possibly stop Dean from talking, but after a few beats he went ahead and prompted his brother.

"What did she say?"

"She said that the demon used a piece of what makes up my life-force, or whatever, to jump start you and that she had searched…searched everywhere but because…because of the way you were brought back… There's no way out of this, Sammy." Dean clasped his hands on the table before him and stared down at the sandwich left untouched on the open wrapper it had come in. He was afraid to meet his brother's eyes and it was a bit easier to hide the fact that, depending on how you looked at it, the statement wasn't entirely true. Ruby never said for a fact that there was no way out but he'd be dead in the end either way so what difference would it make.

"She said _for sure_ that there was no way to break it?" Sam asked and Dean nodded his affirmation. Sam gripped his beer and rolled the neck of it between his fingers. He watched the condensation roll down the sides and leave patterns in the wake of the twisting base. "And you were used to bring me back?"

"Yeah, that's what she said," Dean replied. "I bet Bobby never thought he'd have to worry about _me_ getting' up in ya," Dean paused before a chuckle could escape, a stunned look came over his face instead as he thought on that one and tried to shake it off. "That's just disturbing on _so _many levels."

Sam met his brother's eyes at the end of that statement and reacted just as Dean did, then he shook his head so that he could stay focused on the topic at hand. He scrutinized his brother, watching every nuance of his expressions and body language. Trying to figure out what Dean was hiding.

"Huh… Why did she come to you when she's always come to me? There's more to it, isn't there?" Sam asked. Dean just returned his stare as he fidgeted with his ring, twisting it round and round his finger. Sam tried not to let his disquiet get the better of him. "_Dean..._you aggravate Ruby about as much as she aggravates you. What else did she say because this is not something I see you having a panic attack over? There's more to it and it involves me doesn't it? Because as much as it pisses me off, you don't care about what happens to you enough to get as bent out of shape as you did earlier today."

Dean looked back down at his hands and found his fingers leaving white trails turning to red as he twisted them about. He realized that this hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam and quickly released his grip and shook his hands before pushing his chair back and standing up. Changing his mind Dean sat back down again, slowly rubbing his hands up and down his thighs as if pushing hard enough would make his own agitation disappear. He stared at his restless hands as he thought carefully on what he would say next.

"There's still a demon out there that wants to get you, Sam." Determination setting in, Dean looked up at his brother. "He'll use every means he can to get to you. Even me, so you've got to prepare yourself. Ruby's already confirmed there's no way out of this and she's looked everywhere to find a way. If you keep looking for one…one that clearly doesn't exist, you're just going to leave yourself wide open for an attack. I've become a liability to you, Sammy, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you."

"Don't say that, Dean," Sam replied trying to hold himself together as he watched his brother try to hide his own emotions. "Don't you _ever_ say that because without you…"

"Hey, you're not going to get all chic flicky on me are you?" Dean grinned in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Dean…"

"No, Sam," he shook his head. All humor left Dean's face as he affected a look of complete seriousness. "This time…there's just no way out of this one and you know it. No matter how hard you look…my fate is set in stone, Sammy. Now it's your turn to make me a promise."

"My turn?" Sam asked as a look of confusion joined the signs of worry that seemed to be a constant visage upon his face.

"You remember that time you got drunk and made me promise to…take care of you if you went all dark-side?" Sam nods his head. "Well, now it's your turn to make a promise. Promise me that you won't do anything that could even _remotely_ lead you down that path. Promise to take care of yourself and _not_ go all dark-side."

Sam's face became a mask of hurt and confusion. Dean had killed the yellow-eyed demon. So him turning evil shouldn't have even been an issue anymore. "Dean, I…"

"Do this for me, Sam," he pleaded. "Do this for me so when I'm down in hell I won't be worrying that I'll see my baby brother there. It's all I got going for me now, Sammy. I can't live what's left of my life knowing I may be sending you to hell too. I just can't do it."

Sam nodded his head as he watched Dean rub a tear from his eye. He leaned forward and gripped his brother's neck, resting his forehead on his shoulder in a rare moment of mutual comfort.

"Okay, enough of all this girly touchy feely crap." Dean edged away from his little brother and Sam took the hint and did the same. "Bitch."

Sam forced a small smile upon his lips as his customary response passed through them. "Jerk."

**AN2:** Hope y'all weren't bored out of your minds with this one but I had to get this part out there so that I could maintain some continuity and set up some up coming events I got goin'. I would so love the R&R cause y'all that have said something already have done wonders for my story dedication. wink wink wink


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**AN: **Hey y'all! I hope I'm keeping you interested and that the following makes some lick a sense. The ever lovely Joyce is still working on the beta readin' on it and has already caught me on my continued abuse of past and present tense usage, but right now I'm anxious to post and can't bring myself to wait for the rest of the beta input even though I only gave this to her last night – do you believe she gave her job the priority over reading my sanctified piece of work? heh Anyway, there will probably be some grammar changes later, but the context of the chapter won't change a bit. If y'all notice anything off, feel free to let me know. I can take it. :D

* * *

**Chapter 4**

It pulsed across the ceiling with an even rhythm reminiscent of the rise and fall of thick heavy lungs. Its translucent surface rippling like hundreds of maggots caught in a coiling mass. Unseen eyes tracked the brothers as one read and the other scanned his machine. It flowed above them, trying to sense out the one it needed. One of them had a chink in his armor. A way in that could be taken advantage of. It circled the room, gliding towards the shadows where the ceiling met the wall then poured down one corner onto the floor. The unseen entity flowed across the floor and around the leg of the table before coming to a bulbous rest below table near its center. The center rose and expanded, tilting its writhing mass towards one of the brothers only to halt barely a foot from the hunter's knee.

Something was protecting him, blocking its ability to penetrate and acquire him as a host and unlike the salt at the door a strong gust of wind would not gain the entity entrance. It was the same for the other leaving the entity with little choice but to be patient. It would find the ward. All it needed was an opportunity an opportunity in which it could remove the charm and destroy it. So it watched and waited. It waited for its chance and with the rise of one restless hunter, knew that chance would soon come.

* * *

The storm outside had calmed, the wind buffeting the house lightly instead of the pounding it had been dishing out a half hour before. Sam had checked the weather report online so tornados weren't going to be an issue tonight. It seemed that the state of Oklahoma was one condition away from a potential formation. Nothing to worry about, the online forecast stated, except flash floods and low visibility. This was followed by the usual spiel that everyone should stay inside in any case.

And though the storm had calmed in force, the rain continued to fall in droves. The light beat of it on the siding drummed a tempo that had been slowly lulling Dean into a state of drowsiness. He dropped the papers he was reading and did a full body stretch in his chair. Arching his back, Dean stretched out his arms and legs 'til he heard his joints pop. He kept his arms stretched out as he brought them around, only relaxing them as he sat forward and leaned his forearms against the edge of the table.

"I take it this means you're hittin' the sack?" Sam asked, keeping his eyes on his laptop.

Dean swung his head towards his brother and grinned. "Yep. I'm gonna jump into that awesome steam shower first, though."

"With this weather? Showering during a storm is like asking to get electrocuted. Is it even working?"

"Dude?" Dean's look of incredulity causes Sam to roll his eyes. "First of all, duh, laptop boy. You should have kept that thing off when the storm finally rolled in." Ticking his points off on his fingers, Dean ignored the muttered "Surge protector" comment from his brother and continued as if Sam hadn't said anything at all. "There hasn't been any lightning since the storm calmed and I wanna take advantage of that while I can. Second, not only am I an expert on guns, electronics…hell, everything mechanical, I'm also an excellent plumber. Just ask the ladies and they'll tell you I'm the king of all things hands on," Dean smirked holding up his cell phone.

"Dude," Sam drew his brows together and laughed, "that was way more information than I needed to know."

"You're just jealous 'cause your tool's gettin' all dusty in the package. I'm tellin' ya, Sammy, we could hit the Kum and Go at the next town over," Dean says as he stood and started walking backward towards the stairs with a shit eating grin. "I mean if there's one gas station that _you_ can pick up a chick at, it would be at that one. If not, I'm sure there'll be a nice lonely fella, maybe a trucker, willing to cuddle up with ya."

"Shut up, asshole!" Dean raised his arms and skipped back blocking the balled up foil sandwich wrapper that Sam hurled at his head.

"Like a girl, Sammy. Like a girl," Dean laughed as he took the stairs up two at a time, leaving his now irritated brother. The second floor was cast in shadows, neither Winchester having journeyed up the stairs since the storm rolled in. Dean was a few steps from the top when lightning lit up the hallway from the room opposite the top of the stairs. A boom of thunder sounded a few seconds later rattling the whole house with each beat as the lightning continued to illuminate the hall like a strobe.

The Dean groaned as the idea of a nice steamy shower just went flying out the door as his little brother shouted from below. "Did I _mention_ the weather!? Karma's a bitch ain't it!"

Dean was about to make a retort when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Stilling his body, he directed his attention to the ceiling of the room before him. He moved his right hand to pull his gun from the small of his back. The continuous flash of nature's light allowed the hunter to catch the movement again. Then Dean realized that what he saw was the shifting shadow of the room's ceiling fan and he let out a slow breath.

He entered the room and walked toward the window to look out into the rain. The storm had rolled in fast, darkening the sky of early dusk in a matter of minutes. The rain had fallen sudden and heavy at the time, just as it was beginning to do so again now. The wind added extra force to the torrents as water bombarded the windows and thunder rattled them in their frames.

Dean shifted his gun back to his waist and crossed his arms. The room was bare. Empty. An ideal spot for him to try and get his thoughts together without any distractions save for the pounding of the storm; the vibrations coming through the window now more soothing than before.

He stared out into the gale and took an odd sort of comfort in the power of nature and its chaotic consistency. Dean let the waves of rain lull him back into a feeling of much needed calm. It allowed his mind to wander as he stared out into the dark, seeing nothing but his own reflection, not even flinching as lightning continued to flash through the night.

Closing his eyes, Dean leaned against the frame and tapped his forehead against the pane of cool glass once before letting it rest there. He sighed, his warm breath flowing from his mouth, cooling as it skimmed the surface of the cold glass. Opening his eyes, he watched the bit of condensation that marked the trail of each breath come and go to the slow rhythm of each exhalation and sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot more lately.

Despite the much needed levity of the moment before, his thoughts quickly returned to his deal. There wasn't a moment that went by that his future didn't stalk along the edges of his mind like a predator circling its prey. At first he was able to lose himself in the hunt, the kill, and the physical release he achieved during sex. Finding new ways to achieve a kill allowed no room for wandering thoughts and made him feel alive. The act of being creative in that act of giving pleasure kept him focused and allowed him to forget about his fate and live in the moment. All of that had worked just fine until Lisa and Ben.

It wasn't enough. So he started going to parks, pretending to be a part of the life he saw before him. Nowadays he just contemplated life in general, forcing himself to slowly accept his fate. Damn if at that instant he didn't miss Chip and Dale.

Dean's thoughts wandered back to a place he didn't want to go; the new demon player and Sam. Before, his only regret in life had been realizing that he was the reason his father had lost his life. His only redemption for that sacrifice would be keeping his brother safe. Now all he could think about was how he kept screwing that up. First by not getting to Sam in time to keep him from being murdered and then by making a deal that would force his brother to keep fighting for his soul after the hell hounds came for his own. He'd inadvertently fastened his soul to his little brother and potentially damned him to an unending fight against the darkness currently lurking in his soul courtesy of big brother.

Dean stepped away from the window and left the room as lightning and thunder continued to rule the sky. Walking into the master bedroom and using the frequent lightning flashes to see by, he knelt just inside the door and rummaged through his duffle until he found a face towel he'd lifted from the last motel they'd stayed at. Grabbing his underwear, he then headed for the bath figuring he'd at least wash up at the sink since the shower was now out of the question. Although unlikely, he didn't want to risk getting electrocuted by a lightning strike while in his birthday suit.

Dean flipped on the light, pulled his shirt off and turned on the tap at the sink, making sure the water was tolerably hot. He leaned forward and checked his teeth then smiled to himself and with a nod added, "How you doin'?" He chuckled to himself and started soaking the face towel. Dean squeezed out the excess water and started rubbing down his chest, taking an extra swipe at the itch that started around the tattooed charm protecting him from demon possession. The hunter paused with the towel under his arm when the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise.

Dean brought his arms down and turned from the running water at the sink to examine the bathroom around him. The only warning he got was the sudden shudder of the shower's glass door a second before it exploded before him.

* * *

**AN:** Are you mad? Don't be mad…the next chapter's gonna be a good one. I promise! 8D It just didn't fit in with this one. ;) btw, the Kum & Go is a real gas station franchise in the NE part of Oklahoma and the SW part of Missouri. That was just one name I couldn't make up laughs And the whole lighting and shower thing…it could _so_ happen - saw that on Myth Busters


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Although by no means overly graphic, this chapter's on the bloody side and I tried to be descriptive without being gross. Hopefully that was accomplished.**

AN: It only took me 8 different starts to this and 20 rewrites but I _finally_ got this together. Hope it was worth the wait. 8P ;) Thanks to my gal AJ for the quick beta!

**Chapter 5**

The light in the bathroom was flashing on and off, flickering in time with the swing of the single piece of broken glass left hanging by its corner in the now empty frame surrounding the shower. The shower head and knobs sparked with the occasional release of a static charge, further blackening the wall around them. Ozone permeated the air while more sparks of energy seemed to dance along every metal fixture that could be found. Energy ticking with each arc made from one point to another.

Dean sat low on his knees, his heels barely grazing his hips. The continuous flow of blood building along his jaw formed drop after drop at the corner of his chin. Each pearl of life falling to slap the denim of his thigh in a beat counter point to the now fading sparks about the room and in the air. More of the oxygen-rich fluid flowed from grazes and around foreign objects embedded deep within muscled flesh. Steady streams that followed the curve and contours of a body folded in on itself.

Blood ran down his torso, along his thighs, gravity pulling at it as the deep red fluid traveled along his arms to pool in upturned palms only to overflow and fall between the cracks of limp fingers.

The pounding of feet upon hard wood could be heard somewhere in the house and with the worried sound of his name filling the structure those limp fingers began to twitch. The twitch was followed by a groan and Dean's eyes eased open. His vision blurred and the back of his head throbbed with each beat of his heart. The injured hunter tried to raise his arm to his temple, a difficult feat that got his arm no higher than his chest before it began to fall. His hand never reached the floor as strong fingers wrapped around his wrist, the grip eliciting a slight startle and hiss from clench teeth as the movement made Dean aware of just how hurt he was.

"Oh my God…Dean?" Sam quickly scanned the room, taking everything in before determining that things were clear enough for him to do a quick once over of his brother. Shards of glass, varying in size riddled the front of his body and a large amount of blood matted the posterior portion of his head, some of it flowing across his scalp and over his ear, the rest pouring down his neck and along the curved ridges of his spine.

Grabbing the face towel from the floor, Sam checked it for glass before placing it on the open wound, concern over the amount of blood and the possible trauma trying to distract him from what he needed to do. "Can you get up?"

The creases at Sam's brow deepened with worry when a moment passed with no response. "Dean," he said, increasing the grip on his brother's wrist, "You with me?"

"Ye…yeah." The young Winchester allowed himself a moment's breath as he watched his brother try to focus. Despite the amount of blood from the numerous cuts and stabs, his brother had had worse. What concerned him was the head wound and the extent of the damage associated with it.

Sam took Dean's left arm, the least wounded of the two, and placed his brother's hand over the towel. "Hold that and try and maintain the pressure." Dean could only grunt his response and managed to hold the small towel in place. Sam positioned himself in front of his brother then gripped him under the pits of his arms. Using his knees, he was able to lift the solid mass of muscle that was his brother to unsteady feet.

Dean swayed and he strengthened his grip, managing to balance him against the counter long enough to wrap an arm around his waist and place his other hand on his chest to keep him steady. He steered his wounded sibling out of the bathroom and toward the king sized bed still covered in the factory plastic.

* * *

He felt like he was floating in a sea of black and he was cold. Bitterly cold. He could feel the prickling of needles all over his body as he struggled to dispel the blackness. Dean cracked open his eyes and the darkness seemed to part before him like a dissipating fog. Confusion clouded his mind for a moment and he could feel his arm move in an abortive attempt to touch his head. He hadn't even realized he'd started moving it until it fell and was caught by a familiar hand. _Sammy?_

Dean blinked. Sam was talking to him and a moment later he heard himself respond. Then he was standing, holding something at the back of his head and his brother was holding him. He couldn't focus, the throbbing at the rear of his skull beginning to take precedence over any other ache and pain he had. His mind muddled, confused and filled with disorientation.

Dean blinked. _Sam?_ He was sitting on something soft…firm…and he was pulling glass from his body. He felt each sliver slide out, gliding over sensitive flesh before being dropped to the floor with a quiet thud. The flow of his life's blood increased from wounds as each blockage was removed. He didn't understand what he was doing. Why he was doing it.

Dean blinked. He looked down on himself through heavy lidded eyes watching his hand approach the largest piece yet. It protruded out from the pectoral muscle on his left side, deep and wide. Blood, thick and sticky, coats the flesh around it and he felt the fire of pain in the muscle flare up as his fingers grasped the foreign invader and began to pull. He watched in morbid fascination. His jaw clenched from the throbbing sensation centered near his heart as the glass dagger slowly slid out, the wet sound resounding through the air as the delicate-looking object fought the suction of tender meat.

Dean blinked. Sam stood before him, first aid kit in one hand, lantern in the other. He was talking to him again with a wary look on his face and Dean was having a hard time hearing him. All he could think about was how the angle was all wrong. _Wasn't I just sitting?_

* * *

"Dean?" Sam took a step inside the dark room cautiously. He raised the lantern he'd brought to the side, keeping it from his eyes and watched as its light blanketed his brother's form in a soft glow. His hold on the first aid kit tightened reflexively as he looked at his brother, appraising everything he saw. When he had left Dean he had been barely coherent and didn't seem to know which way was up. Dean shouldn't be standing.

Sam knew something wasn't right as soon as he'd stepped into the room and it wasn't just the sight of his brother standing, head bowed, in front of the bed with a long piece of bloodied glass gripped in his right hand. Although that alone would give anyone pause. It was the nagging feeling that seemed to tickle across his mind like hundreds of ants crawling across his skin and he couldn't shake them loose. It was the empty detached look in shadowed eyes peering below heavy brows. It was the apparent ease with which his wounded brother held himself. Dean shouldn't be standing.

Sam had laid him down and propped up his feet. He'd felt how his brother's skin had felt cold and clammy and had grabbed an old blanket to keep him warm. He'd been worried that his brother would fall. Been worried that shock would do more damage to an already damaged body. Dean shouldn't be standing.

Dean's chest and arms were covered in more blood from wounds that had once held the glass from the shower stall. The dark red fluid soaked the top of his jeans in a continuous flow and fell drop by steady drop from the fingertips of his left hand. He must have lost close to a quart by the looks of it. That much blood loss should have had him close to, if not complete, unconsciousness. That much blood loss….

Dean shouldn't be standing.

**AN: Okay, y'all, what did ya think? Was it worth it or should I end everyone's suffering now and buy myself a pogo sick? :) _boing boing boing boing_ 'Course, AJ would probably reach through the net and kick my "arse"…. And really? Why would I put myself through that?**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Okay, y'all. Totally surprised myself by getting this done as soon as I did so I hope it's totally worth it and hopefully I'll have another chapter up within a week if I don't get too distracted. _heh_ And that could possibly happen. :) Thanks for the push, AJ!

**Chapter 6**

Dean shouldn't be standing…but he was.

The unfaltering pat of the droplets hitting the growing spot on the carpet was a tattoo accompaniment to the quieting storm. The wind tearing through the branches outside seemed to surge with each slow shuddering breath the youngest Winchester now took. Thousands of rain drops pelted the window in tandem to each deep inhalation and Sam felt his muscles tightening with an ever growing tension. The sound of the air that passed through his mouth and nose seemed to reverberate in his ears.

"Dean…" Sam called quietly. "You with me?"

Nothing. The utter and unnatural stillness that surrounded the older man sent a shiver down Sam's spine. He made to take a careful step further into the room then quickly halted all movement when he caught the slight tightening of Dean's hand around the broken piece of glass. That was when he noticed the faint scent, the scent hidden underneath the smell of ozone from the lightning strike.

Sam's blood turned to ice and his eyes widened. _It couldn't be..._

The young hunter flicked his eyes down then back up to his brother. One of Dean's bags lay open just to the right of the door, the rounded edge of the container he needed peeked out from between a shotgun and a machete.

"I'm going to just…put this stuff down. Alright...?"

Sam slowly crouched down, gently placing the lantern and kit on the floor. He never took his eyes off the figure that stood before him as he slipped a hand into his brother's duffle and pulled out a white plastic bottle.

His brother remained still as Sam just as cautiously stood from his crouch, gripping the bottle in his right hand. The only movement Sam could detect was the subtle shift of Dean's eyes as he tracked the younger Winchester.

"Dean, talk to me man…"

Inside Sam prayed. He prayed that what was becoming clearer by the second wasn't true. He prayed that maybe he was mistaken and Dean was trapped in some kind of fugue state. He prayed that the growing evidence to support the supposition taking root in his mind was purely a misread interpretation of the facts.

Sam wasn't a fool, though. However much the injuries his brother had sustained made him want to rush to him he knew he couldn't. The way Dean held himself with such an unnatural stillness had Sam's hackles raised. So, as much as he prayed it to be different, Sam knew that his brother was possessed by a demon.

Dean was possessed by a demon and it didn't make any sense to Sam because, not long after Meg had used him to wreak havoc on their lives, he and Dean had decided that the best way to ensure neither one were ever open to a demonic take over was to get a tattoo of the charm Bobby had given them. The tattoo.

Sam's eyes shifted to the spot on the left side of Dean's chest. There, underneath a thick coating of blood, was the tattoo…separated in half by a free flowing wound of jagged flesh.

"Shit."

Muscles tightening further, Sam strengthened his grip on the bottle and took hold of the top. His eyes flicked back up to his brother's as he started twisting the cap off. Sam then uttered the one word…the one _name_ that would confirm what he already knew to be true... "Christo."

Black rippled across Dean's eyes in a wave and the smell of sulfur grew. Sam had only a second to remove the cap from the bottle of holy water before Dean charged. He swung the bottle in an upward arc and caught Dean square across the chest and face as he backed quickly out the door. The demon wearing the older hunter's face grimaced in pain as it cried out, stopping its forward momentum long enough for Sam to stumble back, slam the bedroom door closed and make a break for the stairs.

Sam reached the top of the stairs and heard the door crash open behind him, slamming hard against the wall. The dark unnatural roar that erupted from his brother's throat made his heart race faster than it already beat. He didn't look back. He didn't need to. He could tell by the speed of the steps behind him…the heavy pants…where Dean was and had made it half way down the stair case when he got tackled from behind. He barely had enough time to twist his body with the force of the blow before they hit the bottom stair in a roll.

A momentary flash of guilt shot through Sam as he allowed Dean's blood slick body to take the brunt of the impact. The holy water from the bottle Sam had managed to hold onto splashed out causing the demon to release his hold from around Sam's waist with another scream of pain.

Sam continued to roll away. He used the momentum of the impact to take him into the living room where he finished the roll and came to his feet in one smooth movement, making a mad dash for his own duffle. He tossed the now empty plastic container and grabbed his bag, never stopping as he continued running towards the kitchen and his way out.

* * *

Dean was screaming. Screaming for Sam to run. Screaming to be free.

He knew the minute he was able to focus in on his brother. Focus in on his wary expression. Focus in on the way he held his body, tense and uncertain. He knew at first glance that something was wrong.

Sam called his name and he tried to reply, but he felt a heavy fog cloud his mind and he lost his focus. A sharp pain in his hand cleared some of the cobwebs and he watched blurrily as his little brother freed up his hands and took a bottle from his bag.

_Holy water?_ No sooner had the thought crossed his mind he heard the name of God pass through his brother's lips. A sickening feeling surge through him. An evil of the likes he's never known overwhelmed Dean's senses and he felt something akin to fire strike his chest and face and in that instant of clarifying heat Dean was able to grasp what was going on. He had a second to think just how much this whole situation sucked beyond compare before the nauseating stench of evil overwhelmed him again.

As if through shadowed lenses, he watched his brother run from him and he was too weak to do anything about it. Anger and the utter injustice of it all consumed him, building up inside of him, but he was unable to let it out. He had no control. No ability to take command of his body. The loss of blood had made Dean weak and unprepared for such an unexpected habitation.

Logically Dean knew that it wouldn't have made a difference. Once the skin baring the mark of the charm on his chest was torn, and with all the shit he'd been going through, he became vulnerable to demon possession. Yet he felt he would have been able to fight back. Possibly distract the demon from Sam and give his brother an extra second lead.

Now, however, the trauma his body had suffered…_is_ suffering as his heart continued to pump his blood through and out his body made Dean disgustingly weak. The sensation of moving muscles was in stark contrast to the weakness caused by the excessive blood loss. The constant shifting of his vision and the hit he'd taken when the demon tackled his brother sent waves of pain shooting through his body and straight into his head. Dean was sure that he would loose consciousness but the demon kept him awake. Kept his body moving and not even the second dose of searing heat from the holy water would slow it for long.

Nevertheless despite the alertness he was gaining he was still losing a battle to think…concentrate on everything that was happening. Though the demon kept him moving the damage was done. He didn't need his higher mental faculties to come to the conclusion that he had a concussion, a sever one at that. Experience taught his body to recognize it. It also taught him that if he didn't get any medical attention soon he probably wouldn't make it through the night.

However, at the moment, Dean didn't care. He'd already accepted that his number was up. What he couldn't accept was that Sam's may be to. So Dean did his best to focus. Focus on slowing the demon down and determination to attempt to fight and concentrate everything he had on one single Forest Gump thought. _Run, Sammy! Run!_


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Alright people, I sincerely apologize for the wait on this one. I hit a major road block that I'm still trying to get around. I know where I'm going but I'm having trouble getting there b/c my muse brought the wrong map along for the ride. Don't worry, this will get finished! I'm not stopping till it's down no matter what it takes! As always, you're comments are welcome. Please tell me if you're still engaged in the story or not so I can work harder at making it better. :) This chapter is unbeta-ed, so please forgive any errors. ;P

**Chapter 7**

Sam burst into the kitchen a command to run echoing at the back of his mind as he made his way to the back exit. He tucked his chin in and swung the duffle up to shield his head as he rammed his way through the sliding glass door and into the storm-riddled night.

The shattered glass flew and Sam twisted, landing hard on his right shoulder, sliding across the patio through standing water into the yard and over the too high grass. The muddied water sprayed out around him as he was assaulted by the ongoing downpour. Coming to a halt several feet from the ruined patio door, Sam managed to quickly push up onto an elbow. He quickly swung his head around to look behind him, his already sodden hair slapping him across his face as he squinted through the deluge.

The demon came to a halt at the threshold, backlit by the low light coming from the living room beyond the kitchen. It took the young hunter's eyes a moment to penetrate the shadows of his brother's face but he was able to see the sneer of annoyance there as clear as day. He followed the path of demon black eyes as they glanced down, coming to rest on the thick line of salt that blocked any attempt at a forward progression. The demon was caged in…for now at least.

Sam got to his feet and turned to face the imprisoned being.

The beat of the rain seemed to fade into the background as it turned into a slow drizzle leaving Sam acutely aware of the heaviness and depth of his own breath. The rapid beat of his heart pushed adrenalin rich blood through his body causing an intensity in the awareness that only danger could bring. So intent on the man before him, Sam hardly took notice of the few steps he made stopping just short of the concrete that made up the patio.

Sam tilted his head forward and blinked against the tiny rivulets of water that ran down his face and fought to obscure his vision.

"Who are you?" he asked his voice low and gruff with emotion barely held in check.

The demon smirked in a twisted rendition of Dean's usual cocky smile. The wicked twist of lips caused a shiver to run through Sam's body. It held none of the mirth he was used to seeing only the promise of unspeakable evil.

Uncertainty quickly rose and the young Winchester immediately thought back to the time when he had been possessed. He never truly understood what Dean had felt trying to save him until now, even though he'd been gradually making sense of Dean's logic over the pass few months. Now all he had to do is figure out how to return the favor and get this son of a bitch out of Dean.

* * *

He'd shouted for his brother to run. It was the last thought he'd had before he found himself here.

Dean stood in the dark hotel room of a past dream he'd rather forget. A dream and a room where he'd shot himself only to be confronted by the fears of his future. He didn't want to be here. The memories of that nightmare haunted him in the waking world and sought to overwhelm him now. The empty blackness of his own eyes staring up at him, and the finality of the words spoken before waking, echoed in the room around him. _"This is what you're gonna become!"_

Dean shook his head and tried. Tried to take control. Control of his body, his thoughts; he had to get out of here but things were jumbled, confused and it felt like it was getting worse. He went to the door and banged on it with his fist. He tried the knob even though he knew nothing would come of it then started in with his shoulder, ramming it against the impenetrable barrier several times before standing back and kicking it with a bare foot. He didn't feel the pain from those blows nor did he feel the blood that trickled rapidly down his bare chest till he stumbled back after the fourth kick and tumbled to the carpet.

He laid there a moment and focused on his pain till he could bare it, push past it. "Get it together Dean," he grunted to himself. _This frantic bullshit isn't getting you anywhere_, he thought. _Dad taught me better than this. Calm your ass and think. May not be able to take back my body but this is my mind…there has to be a way for me to take some kind of control._

Dean groaned as he sat up and looked around. Pulling himself onto the bed, he scooted over till he could reach for the pillow under the bed spread and pull the pillow case off. He proceeded to rip the material and work the strips he made into bandages. Something told him that the wounds were more than likely a mental manifestation of his real world hurts and he supposed he could have tried to mentally get rid of them but he needed to know the state his body was really in and, if how he was feeling was any indication, it wasn't good.

When he was done, Dean took another look at the room. Everything he remembered was there, right down to the blue and green jungle themed wall paper. Across from him was a queen sized bed with a blue-green bed spread to match the one he sat on. Beyond that were the only two windows in the room, barred and black beyond, the desk and chair so prominent in that nightmare, still sitting cold between with that hated desk lamp - if one could really hate a desk lamp - still sitting near its edge. Dean's eyes continued to roam to the left and settled on the kitchenette. It stared back…bare, gleaming dully in the low light of the three working lamps spread around the room.

Next was a door he could only assume led to the bathroom and, beside it, the door to the hall standing solid and unbreakable. Behind him he saw what could be described as a sitting area but was actually just extra space between the bed he sat on and the wall that held a couch, an armchair and a table with one the lamps in between.

And finally to his right the final lamp atop the nightstand between the two beds, sitting behind an old rotary phone. The phone.

"Nah…" Dean crinkled his brow in thought. "That couldn't possibly work." Dean grabbed the phone and set it in his lap and stared down at it as if it held the answers to the universe. He picked up the receiver then placed it back in its cradle with a huff. "It's not like you got any working plans, Hilts." Dean cocked his head to the side, arched a single brow and said "What the hell…" With a shrug of a shoulder he removed the handset again and started dialing his brother's cell.

Dean listened to the rapid ticks of the connection being made, surprised that he was getting that much, and after the fourth series of ticks he heard the click of the call being received and sat up straighter. "Sam..?"

* * *

**AN:** Well, sorry that was so short but I hope that will tied you over till I get the rest of this bitch together :) And for those who don't remember, though I doubt that's possible, Dean's back in the room from Dream A Little Dream and "Hilts" would be the fav Winchester reference to The Great Escape. Later, peeps, and again your thoughts would be great!


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Okay so by the end of my last chapter I was so psyched that I truly believed that I would have this one up right away, but then I got struck by a severe case of writer's block, followed by my monitor going out on my laptop. Then I had to wait for my brother to give me back my old laptop – which really doesn't matter b/c not only does it not have wireless – yes, it's that old – it had kept deciding to go out on me. No it wasn't the blue screen of death but more like its cousin the blue screen of memory dumping. But fortune was on my side as I realized "Hey! I can connect the first laptop to an external monitor and still have internet and access my files!" This lasted for about as long as it took to get a virus on my monitor disable bundle of joy and left me without a computer for another couple months. Okay, so, long story short – too late, right? – I now have a new laptop and a better equipped muse and I hope you like the next installment.

------

"Nah…" Dean crinkled his brow in thought. "That couldn't possibly work." Dean grabbed the phone and set it in his lap and stared down at it as if it held the answers to the universe. He picked up the receiver then placed it back in its cradle with a huff. "It's not like you got any working plans, Hilts." Dean cocked his head to the side, arched a single brow and said "What the hell…" With a shrug of a shoulder he removed the handset again and started dialing his brother's cell.

Dean listened to the rapid ticks of the connection being made, surprised that he was getting that much, and after the fourth series of ticks he heard the click of the call being received and sat up straighter. "Sam..?"

**Chapter 8**

_We're sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again. Beep, beep, beep. We're sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again._

"You're friggin hilarious!" Dean shouted up in the air. "Figures I'd get possessed by the one demon _who thinks he's a damn comedian!_" Placing the handset back in the cradle none to gently, Dean dropped the phone onto the mattress beside him with a heavy sigh. He knew it would have been longer than the longest long shot but he figured that, with his apparent connection to Sam and his brother's inclination towards demon-rooted psychic weirdness, there could have been a small chance it would have worked.

Dean leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face before resting his forehead on clasped hands. He tried to push past the disorientation that still clouded his thoughts and focus on the situation at hand. "Okay, think this through. Demon 101 states that if you are alive and possessed you are aware of what your possessed ass is doin'. So why can't I see what's goin' on?"

Dean raised his head and took a look around the room again. "I've gotta be missing something." Everything looked ordinary to him if you could call a room from the Shinning ordinary. Yet he could tell something was different from the first time he found himself here. His eyes roamed over everything, looking more closely over the details of the room. Looking at not just the whole but parts of the whole. He examined the table, its legs, the cabinets and the chairs. He looked at everything and the harder he looked the more he found himself staring at the wallpaper and brick.

It was like staring at an optical illusion where images were hidden within images. At a passing glance, you would never see the bigger picture but, once you knew to look, details would emerge. And details are what he saw when he looked at the wallpaper and took note of the varying shades of green and how they shifted from light to dark. He could see it in the brick in the varying shades of red and the unevenness of the surface. He forced himself to focus beyond the surface until these subtle changes began to solidify and shift before his eyes forming shapes, patterns until finally he saw it. The symbols. The way the colors blended and flowed to form sigils. The rough and uneven surfaces of the brick creating wards. And in between it all was the faint image of Sam staring up in wide-eyed desperation.

-----

Sam had known the minute he'd heard the door slam open and the wind had started picking up that it would be only a matter of a few moments before the demon would get out. Get out and kill him then kill anyone else who happened to be in its way. There was no time for second guessing he needed to get this done before the demon got loose.

Standing at the open trunk of the '67, Sam grabbed a gallon jug of holy water and doused the tarp he'd set before him, shifting the heavy material to make sure that it was completely saturated. Dropping the now empty container, Sam grabbed the edges of the fabric firmly and quickly turned towards the door.

With a suddenness that left the young hunter breathless, Sam felt as if the world had simply dropped from underneath him. The air whooshed around him as his feet left the ground and the hand now wrapped around his throat forced him down onto the pavement. Black spots were just beginning to play across his eyes when he found himself being lifted and slammed up against the trunk of the Impala. His eyes shut with the impact then shot open in desperation. He brought his hands up to grasp the wrist of his attacker, straining for the breath being denied him as his face turned red from the pressure.

It was the hiss of rising smoke and the grunt of pain that wasn't his own that broke through the darkness threatening to overwhelm Sam that made him realize that he had somehow managed to hold onto the tarp. Fighting the instinct to pull his attacker's hand from his throat, Sam gripped the tarp with both hands and pushed it against the demon.

The demon screamed in pain and rage as the holy water made contact with its host and it released its hold in a vain attempt to get away from the offending material. Sam gasped for breath but didn't stop to enjoy it. Instead, pressing his advantage, he brought them both to the ground and managed to somehow completely wrap the heavy fabric around his brother. The sound of Dean's deep throat screams grew with the rising mist and Sam brought his fist back and struck the covered demon where he knew his head to be. It hurt him to hit Dean's already weakened body and he knew that he more than likely made his head injury worse but the sooner he got him under control the sooner he could fix what was broken.

Coughing and gasping for more breath, Sam staggered to his feet. Shaking his head to clear the spots that continued to dance across his vision, he bent down and took a hold of his brother's canvas covered ankles. Wrapping his arm around the squirming appendages, he secured them to his side and proceeded to drag his brother towards the house.

---

Dean fell to the floor in pain. Barely contained grunts of agony escaped clenched teeth as his whole body convulsed like it was on fire. The feel of thousands of needles dancing across his skin forced his joints to lock him into a fetal position on his side as he instinctively tried to pull away from the pain running throughout his epidermis.

On some level he knew that this wasn't really his pain, knew that Sam was doing something to the demon to cause this but he had no way of separating himself from it. So he endured the torture for what felt like an eternity until his body collapsed, the burning turning into a throbbing ache. Deep exhausted breaths were the only movements he allowed himself as he tried to recover. Face pressed into the carpet, Dean dragged his arms up and braced his hands beneath him in an attempted to sit up but he only succeeded in rolling onto his back instead.

"Jesus, Sammy," he gasped, closing his eyes. "What the hell?" The attempt at sitting up having failed, the hunter instead continued to focus on breathing through the ache that remained. With each breath, Dean forced his muscles and joints to relax and pushed the pain aside. It was by no means a permanent fix towards relief but it helped.

"Shit," he hissed. Dean slowly opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling above him. It was like looking through opaque glass, one ceiling superimposed over another. Then his perspective shifted and he was again staring into the face of his brother. Hearing the whisper of his voice but not knowing what he was saying. Then not caring as he saw his favorite she-bitch step up beside him.

"What the hell is she doing here?"

---

"Pretty creative."

"Yeah." Sam spared the blonde demon a glance before returning his eyes to the bloodied and battered form of his brother kneeling before him. The tarp had been Dean's idea born of the unwillingness to continually draw the devil's trap over and over again. The older Winchester had made it sound as if it were because he was lazy but the practicality of it was not lost on Sam as they set out to hunt as many of those demonic sons of bitches down as they could.

Ruby had shown up during his failed attempt at exorcising the demon with a cocky strut and a pendant swinging from one hand. The only thing he'd accomplished was to cause his brother more pain and cause himself heartache at failing his brother yet again.

He knew Dean would never blame him for not taking Jake's life that first time, the end result being his own death and Dean's subsequent deal, but he did. His life seemed to be full of 'shoulda-woulda's lately and if he couldn't save his brother from this particular demon how the hell was he going to get him out of his deal?

"What are you doing here, Ruby?" he asked absently bringing a hand up to his throbbing neck. The clear red outline of the handprint now marring his throat had already started turning towards the first shades of a bruise by the time he'd gotten his brother into the house. That encounter had been close.

"I had a feeling something was going to happen and thought that you might need a hand," she replied, the cord of the pendant pulled taught between her hands.

"What?" Sam let loose a short humorless chuckle. "You felt a disturbance in the force and came running?" The skepticism was not lost on the woman as she turned to face him.

"No, Sam," her nose twitched in irritation. "Former witch, remember? I pay attention to the signs. I know you still don't believe me but your future existence is of great importance to me and what happens to your brother is directly linked to that. There's no love loss between Dean and myself, as you well know, but if I can help…"

"Thanks, Ruby. I…"

"Isn't this - just - sweet." The deep timbre of Dean's voice rolled across the room and both Sam and Ruby turned their attention back to where it should have been. The demon grinned, showing nothing but teeth as he stared up at his captors through hooded eyes. Eyes black as pitch and face cold as ice. The vapors of holy water were still rising with a hiss where his knees and the balls of his feet made contact with the saturated tarp. "You aren't sweet on the boy are you, Ruby?"

Sam clenched his jaw as he stared down at the trapped demon before him, neither hunter nor young demon rising to the bait. "You gotta help me get this son of a bitch outta Dean."

"That's what this is for," Ruby replied handing Sam the pendent. The pendant was old and well worn. Eight spindles bordered the object like rays of a sun while the inner surface was covered in what Sam recognized as Icelandic runes of protection and power. "Wrap that around your hand with the runes against your palm when you do the exorcism again."

"And it'll work?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

A deep rumbling laugh came from the devil's trap at the tail end of Ruby's response causing the girl to bare her teeth at him. "You know… Belial misses you, Ruby. He wasn't very happy when you broke ranks."

Sam watched as Ruby's brows twisted in anger and her eyes flashed black before returning to human blue, the thought that Ruby knew this demon giving Sam momentary pause. "You can tell him I said hello then, Bathin. Send him back to hell, Sam. His stink is even more than even _I _can bear."

"Why don't you tell him the rest of it,...Ruby. Tell him the odds of his brother coming out of this alive because I will _not_ go easily," he grinned then turned to Sam. "By the time I'm done with this meat suit you call a brother, there…" he stuck his fingers into the tattoo framed wound in Dean's chest, "won't be a drop…" he dug in deep as the blood started to quickly flow, "of blood left in his body."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam stepped forward, his body shaking from anger and agitation. "Get_ out_, Ruby."

"Sam, don't let –"

"Now!" Sparing Sam, then the demon, one last glance Ruby left the house.

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**AN: **Okay, y'all. I ain't gonna lie and say the next chapter's around the corner. It took a couple of snow days for me to get this one up. But don't worry! I will not stop until this bitch is done!


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